


A Moment of Peace and a Touch of Hope

by maycollins



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-13 18:09:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18036323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maycollins/pseuds/maycollins
Summary: Michael is drinking away his problems, but Alex is more comforting than alcohol. Short fic set right after S01E07





	A Moment of Peace and a Touch of Hope

While Maria was crying in his arms, it was easy for Michael to forget his own problems, why he’d gone to the bar in the first place. He could let his world narrow to comforting her, and because they really didn’t know each other, she wouldn’t notice how off he was.

 

When she stood to leave, wiping her eyes and apologizing for breaking down, it was harder to forget.

 

She didn’t put away the bottle she’d poured his drink from, nor did she ask him to leave when she did, and that was all the invitation he needed to stay where he was and fill his glass to the brim. He knew other ways to ignore his problems.

 

Years of foster care and sacrificing his dreams for his family and living with the knowledge that something dangerous lurked behind the human exterior that he and Max and Isobel all displayed had taught him various ways to get as far from reality as possible.

 

Another overfilled glass, and the bar started to soften around the edges. Two more and he could almost believe Isobel was curled in bed with her husband, and not in some institution, afraid of hurting someone else. He knew from experience that no amount of drinks wouldn’t erase what she’d done ten years ago, and what he and Max had done to cover it up, but he took a swig straight from the bottle, hoping it might help him care less.

 

Somewhere in the haze, he heard the door open, turned and saw Alex take a tentative step inside. For a moment, he thought he must’ve passed out, that he was dreaming beautiful dreams, but then Alex opened his mouth.

 

“I was looking for Maria,” he said coolly.

 

“She left,” he heard himself slur. “But stay, keep me company. Look, we have the whole bar to ourselves.”

 

He gestured around the empty space then took another swig.

 

Alex breathed an annoyed sigh, but moved to sit at the stool next to him, and Michael felt a grin spread across his face, distantly aware he was giving too much away to the man who had very recently rejected him, and if he let himself admit it (which he only did now because he was drunk), had broken his heart a little.

 

“How were you planning to get home?” Alex asked.

 

“Didn’t think that far ahead.”

 

“Of course you wouldn’t,” Alex snapped. “Drinking alone in a bar that’s clearly closed, and you didn’t think about getting home. Were you just going to pass out on the floor here?”

 

Alex pointed to the space in front of them.

 

“I’ve slept worse places.” Michael said it like it was nothing, like he was reciting his grocery list. He felt a twinge of the pain and anger that thinking about his past always caused him, but it was muted by the alcohol running through him, which reminded him-

 

He took another swig.

 

Before he could go back for more, Alex took the bottle from his hand. His voice was gentle when he said, “You’ve probably had enough.”

 

If he was more sober, Michael wouldn’t have said, “There’s never enough,” or at least would’ve been embarrassed about it afterwards, but as it was, he didn’t care how angsty he came across.

 

“I’ll give you a ride home,” Alex offered, and Michael shook his head sharply. He couldn’t go there where he would be alone to think and remember.

 

With the sixth sense it sometimes seemed like Alex had for him, he said, “I’ll take you to my place then. We can get your truck in the morning.”

 

Before Michael could say anything, he added, “You’re sleeping on the couch, though.”

 

Alex rolled the windows down as they drove, so the clear night air could clear his mind. Normally Michael wouldn’t want that, would want his mind and his memories to stay fuzzy, but Alex had an odd effect on him. He didn’t forget his problems, but around him, they felt less painful, less urgent. It’s what had drawn him to him back when they were young, when Michael believed he could escape Roswell and Alex wore eyeliner to pretend he didn’t care what the world thought about him.

 

“Isobel had herself committed. Like, to a psych ward,” Michael heard himself saying. He knew he couldn’t explain why, couldn’t tell Alex about all the fears it stirred up about himself, but just saying the words eased the tightness in his chest a little.

 

“I’m sorry.” Alex covered his hand with his own, tangled their fingers together, and Michael felt a warmth spread through him at the contact. “And I’m sorry about earlier. I had a long day, and I took it out on you.”

 

“Thank you, for being here, for helping me,” Michael said in place of a response.

 

“Always,” he heard Alex say.

 

Tomorrow, Michael knew he would wake up with a hell of a hangover, and Isobel would still be locked up, and his and Alex’s problems would still be there, but tonight, he felt a moment of peace and a touch of hope.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thought I'd throw my hat in the ring of Malex fanfiction


End file.
